Not So Human Nature
by Tinas74
Summary: Hermione learns Blaise Zabini is halfVeela and she is his mate. As head boy and girl it would seem this may be her most interesting year at hogwarts yet. Includes HG, RLL Voldemort is dead.
1. Sacrifices

**Disclaimer: **Harry potter and all characters are the sole property of J.K. Rowling.

**Summary:** Hermione learns Blaise Zabini is half-Veela and she is his mate. As head boy and girl it would seem this may be her most interesting year at Hogwarts yet. Includes H/G, R/LL Voldemort is dead.

**A/N: **Thanks to my lovely Beta Rhonda (Sinfully-Snape)

* * *

Silently, the young woman walked through the dimly lit halls of Hogwarts towards the Headmaster's office. She felt a slight stab of trepidation, something she had been feeling since the letter arrived a week ago informing her that she was to report to school a week before the other students in order to take care of some Head business. She felt a flush of pride once again as the realization washed over her that, yes, she, Hermione Granger, was head girl.

Stopping before the Gargoyle that protected the Headmaster's office, Hermione gives the password that had been included with her letter.

"Cockroach Clusters."

The Gargoyle jumped aside revealing a spiral staircase that led up to Albus Dumbledore's office. Her smart shoes made a clicking sound as she climbed the unbearably winding set of stairs and entered into a room filled to the ceiling with piles of miscellaneous junk.

"Ah, yes, Miss. Granger, come in, come in, take a seat," the happy voice of Professor Dumbledore called out from behind one precariously high pile of what looked like enchanted toasters. Rounding the pile she came to stand before Dumbledore's desk.

"Please, have a seat Ms. Granger," Professor Dumbledore waved towards the comfortable looking armchair situated in from of his messy desk.

"Thank you, Sir," Hermione said as she sank deeper into the cushions then she expected. After some initial flailing and shifting she managed to make herself comfortable. Looking around, she noticed she was the only one besides Professor Dumbledore in the room. "Sir, where is Zabini? I assumed that since he was Head Boy he would be here early as well."

"Yes, Ms Granger. Mr. Zabini is here, but he is not feeling well and is currently in the quarters you will be sharing." Professor Dumbledore steepled his fingers and looked at her over his half-moon glasses.

"Oh, I'm sorry I hope it's nothing serious," she said, worried.

"Don't worry Ms. Granger, it's nothing we can't fix." He studied her for a moment before continuing. "Tell me, Ms. Granger, what you know of Veelas?"

"Excuse me, sir?" Hermione asked in confusion, but he only nodded at her to answer. She cleared her throat self-consciously. "Well, sir, Veelas are a form a Fae. There are two distinct races. The Northern Veela are fair, with blond hair and very light silver eyes, the Southern Veela are darker, with black hair and blue eyes. The Veela possess the ability to produce pheromones that insight lust in the opposite sex. Male Veelas are very dominating, while the females are subservient. Veelas have the ability to turn into a birdlike**-**creature with a sharp beak and claws when angry. They also possess the ability to perform some basic wandless magic. They reach maturity at eighteen. Once maturity is reached they dedicate themselves to finding their mate. Once their mate has been identified, they have very little time to find them and mark them. Their sanity is slowly lost until then and if their mate is not found or rejects them, they will eventually fall insane, refusing first to speak, then eventually to even eat or drink, finally killing themselves. That is about all we learned about them last year, sir."

"Excellent, Miss. Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor,"he said happily.

"What I am about to tell you, Miss. Granger, is strictly confidential. Without Mr. Zabini's permission, I must ask you not to speak to anyone about this, and that includes Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. Is this understood?" he asked somberly.

"Yes, of course, sir,"she said without hesitation. This seemed to please Professor Dumbledore and he gently rested his chin on his steepled fingers.

"Mr. Zabini's father was a full blooded Southern Veela, Ms. Granger. This August was Mr. Zabini's eighteenth birthday. We were unsure as to how many Veela attributes he would be inheriting from his father so he stayed the summer here at the school so Madam Pomfrey and I could keep a close eye on him as he reached his maturity. It seems that while Mr. Zabini did not inherit the more physical traits, such as the ability to transform, he did receive the need to find his mate."

Hermione was quite shocked. She pictured the quiet boy who was in most of her advanced classes with her. No denying he was quite stunning with glossy black hair that hung in soft waves to his collar and deep blue eyes. But he was so reserved and shy, Veelas were exotic and erotic, she blushed slightly when she thought this, creatures. Zabini had never been rude to her; in fact he never even seemed to acknowledge her existence. Except of course that one time last year in the library, she had been reaching up, balanced on her tip-toes, to try and retrieve a particularly heavy volume of ancient Mayan ruins when he come up behind her. He had leaned up against her, and reached above her head to pull the book from the shelf. For a moment he paused, his front pressed flush up again her back before handing her the book. She murmured a thank you and he had just smiled slightly, nodded his head and continued down the aisle. Professor Dumbledore, obviously, wanted her help in assisting them find Zabini's mate.

"Professor Dumbledore, is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, already considering which text to use in her research. Yes, she would probably need to check the restricted section. She was sure there had to be books that contained information on how to find someone's mate.

"Yes, Ms, Granger, actually there is. You see Veelas have the advantage of knowing upon maturity whom their mate is." He peered at her for a minute as if deciding the best way of wording what he had to say next. Finally he let out a small sigh and simply said, "You, Ms. Granger, are Mr. Zabini's mate."

"Ex-excuse me, sir?" she stuttered. No this couldn't be right. She wasn't someone's mate, no, not someone, Zabini's mate. She barely knew him. What does Professor Dumbledore mean, he knows _I_ am his mate? "I think you must be mistaken, sir. I couldn't possibly be his mate. No, absolutely not... that's not possible," she said with a rising sense of panic.

"Calm down Ms. Granger. I assure you we made sure Mr. Zabini was correct before we called you here." He sighed and for the first time Hermione noticed how tired and old he seemed. "We had hoped since Mr. Zabini is only half-blooded that we would have more time to inform you and help you adjust to the news. But the truth is he has had an opposite reaction then expected."

"About a week and a half ago Mr. Zabini started to show an accelerated need to find and mark his mate. His mental status has been decreasing daily and Madam Pomfrey was afraid to wait for the start of term to call you in and inform you." He removed his glasses and wiped them with his robe absently. "Ms. Granger, we need you to allow Mr. Zabini to mark you as soon as possible. Tonight would be best. Once he has marked you, his symptoms should abate and you should be able to take some time to get to know each other before the bonding ritual occurs."

Hermione stared at Professor Dumbledore with a mixture of shock, anger and disbelief.

"You want met to let him WHAT?" she cried indignantly. "You call me in here to inform me that one of the most important choices I am to make in my life is already made for me and expect me to happily fall into Zabini's arms and let him… mark me?" she sputtered.

"Ms. Granger I understand this is hard," Professor Dumbledore said gently, "I understand this is hard but Mr. Zabini WILL die without your assistance. Do you believe you could live with an innocent man's death on your hands?" he asked with his eyebrows raised.

How could he... HOW COULD HE!! How could he just sit there and stare at her expectantly. Of course, she couldn't let him die she thought bitterly. She had pretty much sacrificed her childhood to help her best friends kill a maniac. Now she was expected to sacrifice her freedom and her future for a man she barely knew.

"Of course not," She said bitterly. "What am I expected to do? Walk up to him and say 'Mark away'?" she asked sarcastically.

"Actually not much is written about the actual marking. What is known is that he will place a mark somewhere on your person that will connect the two of you," he said.

"Does it…Do I…Do we have to have sex?" she asked hesitantly, blushing profusely.

"Madam Pomfrey assured me that sexual intercourse was not required for the marking," he said, reassuring her with a broad smile. "Now I need to prepare you for what you will find when you return to your quarters," he said gravely.

"P-prepare me?" she stuttered hesitantly. She felt a sense of dread coil in her stomach.

"As I stated earlier, Mr. Zabini seems to be experiencing an accelerated reaction to his onset. The longer a Veela waits to mark their mate the less mentally stable they become until they are completely insane, at which time they refuse food and water until they perish. Mr. Zabini is greatly diminished and, according to Madam Pomfrey, has stopped talking and simply waits. I am not sure if he will be able to speak to you before the marking. As you stated Ms Granger, male Veelas are dominating and while Veelas are instinctually averse to harming their mate, they can become slightly aggressive. Once the mark is on you and sealed, he will regain his normal mental state and you will have plenty of time to talk about things. I have also taken the time to stock your quarters with some books on Veelas and their mates and you will of course be given an unlimited usage pass to the restricted section of the library."

Hermione couldn't help but feel a slight thrill at this news. The thrill did nothing to calm her fear through. Aggressive, what does he mean aggressive? Professor Dumbledore said he wouldn't hurt her… but still, how could he be so sure?

"I think you should head to your quarters now. Here are directions and the password is Patronum. I would like to see you and Mr. Zabini in my office after dinner tomorrow so we can go over your duties as Head Boy and Girl. Does that sound agreeable to you?" he asked politely.

"Fine," she mumbled. Feeling slightly numb, she stood and walked towards the stairs.

"All will be fine Ms. Granger," Dumbledore called to her as she left.

'_Sure, bloody wonderful,' _she thought to herself as she walked down the stairs and started off in the direction of her quarters.


	2. Marking

**Disclaimer: **Harry potter and all characters are the sole property of J.K. Rowling.

**Summary:** Hermione learns Blaise Zabini is half-Veela and she is his mate. As head boy and girl it would seem this may be her most interesting year at Hogwarts yet. Includes H/G, R/LL Voldemort is dead.

**A/N: **Thanks to my lovely Beta Rhonda (Sinfully-Snape), the ladies at quietones group on yahoo, and of course my wonderful reviewers.

* * *

_Click. Click._

The echo of her shoes as she walked down the corridor was the only sound to be heard. Except, of course, for the beating of her heart and the harsh sound of her slightly panicked breathing. She felt sweat break out on her brow and she used her sleeve to quickly wipe it away.

She was tempted to head to the library for some research, but she was tired. First a long car ride to the train station, then a long train ride to the school, to be followed by the news that you were to be tied to life to someone you barely knew and that they were going to 'mark' you. Whatever that means.

Running a shaky hand through her thick hair, Hermione heaved a huge sigh of frustration. Couldn't she have one thing go right in her life? One thing! Even as distressed as she was, she couldn't help but feel comforted by being back in the safe halls of the castle she had called home for the better part of six years.

She scanned the paper she had clutched tightly in her hand once more as she turned the final corner coming to rest in front of a painting of a young lady weaving at a massive loom. The woman was lovely, with silky blonde hair the color of ripened wheat. It was pulled up into an eloquent twist and secured on top of her head with jeweled combs. Her dress must have been the height of fashion when the painting was procured.

Hermione cleared her throat nervously.

"Um, excuse me, miss," she said nervously. "My name is Hermione Granger and I am the new Head Girl this year."

"Oh hello, dear. My name is Lilianna," the lady said politely. "We have been waiting for you. He is quite sick you know. He believes you won't come and he is near giving up."

"Yes, well I am here now," Hermione said, defeat evident in her voice. "Patronum," she muttered and the portrait swung open. With a fortifying breath, she stepped into the shadowed room.

The room was cloaked in darkness. The flames of the low burning fire that danced in the hearth on the far wall were the only light. She could make out a couch and two chairs near the fire but the rest of the room was a vague mystery.

She fidgeted for a moment. She didn't see anyone…perhaps he wasn't in the room…perhaps he went to bed she thought hopefully. She would dearly love to go lie down and take the night to digest all she had heard and confront him in the morning. Cautiously she started to edge towards the other end of the room where the two bedroom doors were barely visible in the pale light. A soft rustling sound startled her and she turned towards the fire.

He was there by the fire in one of the armchairs. He had leaned forward towards where she stood. The firelight cast a sharp contrast across his aristocratic features. His skin was a smooth golden color, his nose sharp and straight. She couldn't see his eyes in the dim light. She didn't need to. One thing you remember about Blaise Zabini is his eyes. They are a deep rich blue, a color many say is far too beautiful for a human…how right they are.

"Hermione," he whispered hoarsely. His voice sounded strained, as if it hadn't been used lately. He ran a shaky hand through his dark curls and licked his lips nervously.

She followed the path of his tongue with her eyes. Transfixed, her eyes glued to the glistening trail left behind. She felt her breath catch in her throat as she imagined her tongue following the same trail. _'WOAH THERE,' _her mind screamed at her. '_This must be some Veela thing affecting my judgment,' _she though wildly. With an effort she tore her eyes from his mouth.

"Yes," she whispered back, unsure of what to say, of what to do. Nervously she brought her hands up to smooth the goose bumps that had risen on her upper arms.

Slowly he rose from the chair and turned towards her. She could see nothing of his face. The fire to his back framed his tall lean body like a halo. He stared at her for a moment before slowly walking towards her.

As he drew nearer she realized that the firelight was not the only thing casting a glow on his figure. He seems to radiate with an inner fire. It mesmerized her; it seemed to pulse, like the beat of a heart. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt slightly dizzy when she realized it pulsed to the beat of _her_ heart. Or perhaps her heart was beating to its pulse. He stopped perhaps a foot from her and gently raised his hand.

"You came," he said in a low husky voice. His hand moved up to the soft curve of her face hesitantly…hovering over her cheek for a moment, almost fearful she was not truly there, before lightly touching her skin. His hand was hot. Much hotter then natural…it felt as though he was burning up with fever. The skin of his hand seemed pleasantly rough against the soft press of her flesh. His hand moved slowly up the soft skin of her face, leaving a trail of tingling warmth and buried it into the thick curls that framed her head.

He closed the little space between them and raised his other hand to join its brother in the tangle of her hair. His heat wrapped around her like a blanket and the scent of sandalwood and spice and something she could not catalog, something unique only to him. The mixture of heat, scent and touch made her head swim and her breath sped up slightly with fear, but mainly with some other emotion she didn't recognize, yet was not altogether unpleasant. He lowered his head and brought her hair to his face, breathing in the scent with a low moan. The sound sent shivers down her body and she had to fight the urge to wrap her arms around him and pull him closer.

He stood still, breathing in her scent. His body was rigid and he trembled slightly with the force his restraint. His hands tightened in her hair and she felt him pull her head back so she was staring up into his face. His eyes were dilated, they looked almost black and reflected back what little light that fell on them. The room around them seemed to dissolve as she lost herself in those dark eyes; they seemed to bore into her very soul. She trembled slightly, nervously, she wasn't used to being so close to someone. Much less someone she barely knew. Sure she had sat in class with this boy, no, this man she corrected, for the last 7 years, yet he was still an enigma. Hermione liked being in complete control of whatever situation she found herself in at all times…that was not the case at the moment. Nervously she licked her lips. That slight movement caught Blaise's eye and it was his turn to follow the glistening trail her tongue left with his eyes. In that moment, if possible, his eyes seemed to darken even more and with a fierce growl he slammed his mouth down on hers, the last of his restraint snapping.

If she had thought his body was warm, it was nothing compared to his mouth. The hot hard brand of his lips claimed her possessively. His tongue followed the trail left by hers moments before causing her to gasp at the rush of sensation. He used the opportunity to plunge his tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth. His tongue brushed hotly against hers causing a fire to shoot down deep into her very core. She moaned, low and husky, into his mouth. This kiss was like nothing she had ever felt before. Sure she had exchanged a few kisses, Viktor in her fourth year and Mark the summer before sixth year, but neither kiss was anything compared to this.

Their kisses had been hesitant, light, testing the waters, letting her set the pace, depth, letting her control it. Here she had no control, he used his hands, mouth and tongue to tell her what to do and she did it without hesitation. His left hand moved to the small of her back and he pulled her body up against his. She could feel every hard line of his body as it branded it's image in her brain.

Vaguely she became aware they had been moving when she felt the back of her legs hit the couch. There was no resistance as he pushed her down and leaned into her, one thigh between her legs the other braced on the other side of the cushion trapping her under him. She marveled at the delicious press of his weight against her slender body. He was hard and hot against her softness and the contrast sent a wave of pleasure through her body.

He kept his weight from crushing her into the cushion with his left arm, as he let his other hand travel over her body, tracing her curves and memorizing her lines. He finally tore his mouth from hers to trail hot kisses down her chin to her ear. The feel of his hot breath moving over her skin sent shivers down her spine, as he leaned in to trace the delicate shell of her ear with tongue. With a guttural moan she raised her hands and threaded her fingers through his silky hair, pulling him closer. As his tongue lavished attention to her ear, his other hand slowly undid the buttons of her shirt.

Abruptly he reared back on his heels, Hermione cried out at the loss of contact. He pulled his jumper off and looked down at her spread out before him. His body was lean and well-defined. A soft spattering of dark hair circled his navel and traveled into the waist of his slacks. As his gaze devoured her she felt strangely naked, even through she was fully dressed. He reached out and spread the halves of her shirt revealing her white cotton bra. For a moment she wished she owned something lacy, like from those magazines her dad kept hidden. But she didn't have much time to ponder as Blaise lowered his body back over hers and claimed her lips in another fierce kiss. His hand slid up her body and he gently cupped her breast his thumb scraping over the soft fabric that covered her aching nipples. She let out a strangled moan at the exquisite pleasure and her hips jerked up against him, rubbing his hardness against her very core. The pleasure was so intense her hips rose of their own accord in an attempt to reclaim the feeling. Slowly their hips rocked together, rubbing, grinding out a primal rhythm. He let go of her mouth with a growl and buried his face into the hollow of her neck licking, sucking, and biting at her slick flesh.

Her body felt stretched tight, his hands on her breasts, his mouth on her neck, his hardness rubbing her mound. She reached around him and pressed her small hands to the base of spine urging him closer. With each thrust of his hips she could feel the softness of the fine linen slacks he wore rubbing at her very center. She pulled her legs up and wrapped them around his waist attempting to pull him even closer. She needed something, and though she didn't know what, he did. He knew what she needed and he could give it to her. She writhed beneath him reaching, stretching, pleading.

"Please, Blaise," she moaned, lifting her hips to grind against his frantically. "Oh God, please, please..."

He lowered his mouth to her shoulder and bit hard. She threw back her head and screamed as her body exploded. Waves of white hot pleasure laced with pain rolled over her, causing her insides to twist and shudder. Her thighs tightened around him and her nails dug into the soft flesh of his back as she tried to force him closer, to hold onto him, her only source of sanity, as her world broke apart and left only darkness as she slipped into unconsciousness.


	3. Sanity

**Disclaimer: **Harry potter and all characters are the sole property of J.K. Rowling.

**Summary:** Hermione learns Blaise Zabini is half-Veela and she is his mate. As head boy and girl it would seem this may be her most interesting year at Hogwarts yet. Includes H/G, R/LL Voldemort is dead.

**A/N: **Thanks to my lovely Beta Rhonda (Sinfully-Snape), the ladies at quietones group on yahoo, and of course my wonderful reviewers.

* * *

Blaise let his face fall into the curve of Hermione's neck. For a moment he just rested there, content, breathing in her sweet scent as the fog that had been clouding his mind for over a week slowly receded. The only sounds in the room was their labored breathing slowly returning to normal and the crackling of the fire.

The last few weeks had been incredibly trying and now that they were over he felt such tremendous relief he could hardly contain his happiness. The magic he used to place the mark was still surging through his blood and he felt powerful and euphoric. He pushed up onto his knees and stared down at his unconscious mate.

He felt his breath catch in his throat. She was lovely. He was surprised at how beautiful she was to him. Ever since that day in the library last year he had though her pretty. But now, spread out before him with the firelight gleaming off the fine mist of moisture that covered her half bare body, she look ethereal in her beauty. Her rich coffee colored curls lay spread over the couch, hanging down the back towards the carpeted floor. Her lashes lay long against her cheeks, still flushed with her arousal. Her body was slender, yet not thin, and her breasts were small, yet not too small, just the right size to fit into the curve of his hands. He was slightly shocked to feel his body react again so swiftly to just the sight of her.

She would not wake for at least twelve hours. The magic used in the bonding was an incredible drain on the mate and left them weak and vulnerable for a short time afterwards. Knowing she needed rest, but not ready to part with her, Blaise picked her up in his arm and carried her into his room. He went to his wardrobe and pulled out a t-shirt. With little difficulty he managed to disrobe her down to her undergarments and slip the shirt over her head. Carefully he maneuvered her under the covers and crawled in beside her. He turned her so her back was to him and pulled her up close, spooning up behind her, marveling at how wonderful lying in bed with her felt. He didn't feel overly tired and instead of sleeping he found his mind wandering over the last months.

--

August

Blaise rolled restlessly in his bed, sheet tangled around him as he tried desperately to sleep. He yawned and glanced at the clock again.

It's after two and I still can't sleep he thought, irritated. God Damn it. I waited for this day for years now it's here and nothing. I feel nothing. Papa said it hurt terribly when he reached maturity. I suppose this means I am not going to have to worry about being half Veela as much as I thought.

This seemed to relax him and he found himself drifting off to sleep. _Suddenly he was riding a current. He seemed to be flowing through gleaming streams of light. Each string was something, he sensed, no someone. He was searching, yet none of the strings were right and he continued to speed rapidly through the blur. There ahead one of the threads glowed, it pulsed, it called to him and he reached for it. The moment he touched it everything was all right, everything was wonderful and he felt complete. As he merged with the string he felt himself falling. Suddenly he was seated in a forest clearing sharing a picnic with someone. Their face was slightly turned away and he blinked rapidly, trying to gather his thoughts._

_It was a young woman, she was wearing a light blue sundress and her thick curls were pulled up into a messy twist on the top of her head exposing the long pale column of her neck. She was reaching into a wicker basket pulling out covered plates of what he assumed was food. Unsure of what to do or what to say he just stared, waiting for her to turn to him. When she had finally laid out the last dish she sat back on her heels and looked up at him with chocolate eyes filled with love and affection. He jolted, shocked as he recognized her._

"_Hermione?" he whispered, slightly confused. _

"_Look I brought all your favorites," she said with a sweet smile that seemed to light up her face. "Your mum even gave me the recipe to make the rum cake you always have on your birthday."_

"_Why? Why would you ask my mum how to make my rum cake?" he asked baffled._

_She looked at him with her eyebrows raised. "What do you mean why? Because I love you silly."_

_With those words she leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. For a moment he marveled in the amazing feel of her soft lips against his and then realization hit him. This wasn't real, this was a dream. Not just any dream, this was his Awareness Dream. His father had told him about this, on his eighteenth birthday he would become aware of the person fated to be his mate in a dream. As her lips brushed against hi, he felt a sharp jolt of magical energy settle deep in his gut and an overflowing of jumbled emotion. Of all the emotion that swirled through him at that moment one stood out above all the rest…Love._

"_I love you, too," he whispered against her lips._

With a start he awoke, his breathing labored and sweat covering his body. With a shaky hand, he ran his fingers through his thick curls. He worked to untwist the sheet from around his body so he could stand and get a drink from the bathroom.

Hermione. He was shocked. He had expected that if he was to mate it would be with some stranger. The thought of having to search for some unknown woman had been the cause of some distress. With a sigh, he walked back into his room to dress for the day.

Sunlight streamed through the high windows of his chambers. With a quick glance at the clock he saw that breakfast had already started. He would speak with the headmaster as soon as breakfast was over.

--

"Are you sure, Mr. Zabini?" the startled Headmaster asked.

"Yes, sir," he said earnestly, "I had the Awareness Dream. I felt the connection and I saw her face, said her name. It is definitely her."

Blaise saw a jumble of emotions flash across the headmaster's face before it finally settled back into the comforting mask of geniality, twinkling eyes and all. _'Good Lord, does nothing faze this man' _he wondered irritably.

"I must say I couldn't think of a lovelier girl," Dumbledore said happily.

"But, sir," he practically cried in exasperation. "She HATES me. I mean she is in Gryffindor, she is a member of the Golden Trio. While I am what she probably sees as an egotistical, bigoted, Slytherin. She will never accept me, NEVER." The words tumbled from his mouth and as he said them he felt a rising sense of panic. She would hate him, she did hate him, OH GOD she HATES me. He started to pant as panic seemed to squeeze the air from his lungs.

"Mr. Zabini, calm down NOW!" Professor Dumbledore said sharply, cutting through the thick veil of anxiety that was threatening to consume him. As suddenly as it came, the panic left.

"I'm sorry sir, I don't know what came over me," he said, bewildered.

"Quite all right. I must say am a little worried though, you shouldn't have such a reaction so soon after your maturity. Please let myself or Madam Pomfrey know of any other such attacks," Professor Dumbledore said kindly. "Now why don't you go and enjoy yourself? It's a lovely day."

Blaise nodded and made his way down the stairs and headed for the entrance hall . He needed to take a walk, perhaps fly a little and think about what had happened.

--

Three weeks later

Hushed voices. Talking. Talking about him… about her.

"I know Poppy. She is to arrive tonight," one voice said.

She is coming? No she wouldn't come, she doesn't want him, doesn't love him. He nearly broke down and sobbed at the thought.

"Albus, I have never seen it this bad, he is fading fast," another voice replied.

Fading. Faded. Faded robes. _That's what she was wearing that day…faded robes. They had been at one point a rich dark blue, but over time had faded to a more subtle color. They must have been a favorite because he had seen her in newer, more tailored attire in class. Today was a Sunday though, a day for comfort first._

_She was standing on her tip-toes reaching for a dark leather-bound book on a shelf much too high for her. For a moment he considered retracing his steps, but he really had no reason to do that. She had never been rude to him and they had spent the last six years in countless classes together. He would show her not all Slytherins were scum like Malfoy._

_He walked up behind her and reached up for the book. He had the advantage of perhaps seven inches on her so he easily grasped the book from its place on the shelf. The forward motion of his body brought his chest right up against her back, trapping her between him and the bookcase. A slight tremor went through his body at this small contact and he hesitated, the book halfway down. Shaking off the odd feeling, he handed her the book and stepped back._

_She clutched the book to her chest and thanked him softly before scurrying down the aisle towards her study table. He watched her as she left, her toffee colored curls bouncing against her faded robes as she hurried away…away from him._

"Blaise," someone was calling him, pulling him back to the present. He looked towards the voice. It was a small older woman, she looked familiar, oh yes Madam Pomphrey. "Let me take you back to your room."

He obediently let himself be led through the twisting corridors back to his rooms. Once alone, he went and sat before the fire. The warmth was a welcome combatant to his cold thoughts. He wasn't sure how much longer he could wait. He thought back to those fleeting moments he had shared with Hermione in his mind and in reality. Staring into the fire, he lost himself in the thoughts of a beautiful woman who would never want him.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there thinking of her. He could almost remember how she smelled…rich, earthy, slightly like peaches. The more he thought about it the stronger the scent became. Vaguely he heard the door of the common room open, but he was so caught up in his thoughts he didn't pay any attention. Suddenly the scent was overpowering, washing over him like a cold shower, waking him momentarily from his dreams.

He turned his head, catching a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. Was it her? No, she didn't want him. But the scent, it was so strong and he felt a strange yearning pulling him towards the back of the room.

"Hermione," he whispered. It was uncomfortable on his vocal cords and the sound came out hoarse from lack of use. Nervously, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to clear his thoughts as he ran his tongue over his dry lips. Suddenly another scent reached him. A quick sudden scent of desire laced with confusion and fear.

"Yes." It was a mere whisper, almost too soft for him to hear, but he did hear and it was like music to his soul. He stood, trying to move slowly, fearful he would scare her away. He turned, eyes closed, afraid that his imagination had found a new way to torment him. Hesitantly he opened his eyes. He exhaled hard, not realizing he had been holding his breath.

She was here…really here. She stood across the room from him. The shadows hid most of her form from him, but he could see her soft curls framing her face and he moved towards her, desperate to see her more clearly. As he moved closer, her scent seemed to wrap around him like a cocoon and he felt a sudden intense stab of desire for her. He had to temper down the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her…to touch her. He didn't want to frighten her anymore than he could sense she already was.

"You came," he whispered, his voice laced with desire. His hand seemed to reach up without permission to touch her. He hesitated a moment to make sure he had control before he touched her. Her skin was soft and smooth like silk against his quidditch roughened hands. He trailed his fingers up her cheek marveling in the cool feel of her skin. As he let his finger lace through her thick hair, he released a soft sigh of contentment and stepped closer. His other hand moved up and threaded deep into the silky curls at the nape of her neck. Her hair felt like the softest silk and he longed to feel it sliding across his bare flesh. He gathered some of it in his hands and brought it to his nose, inhaling the delicious smell of his mate. His body trembled with desire and he let out a low moan at the vivid image of her naked on his bed with her hair spread around her.

Gently he tugged on her hair, tilting her face up to his. He scanned her face, quickly mapping it in his brain before letting himself get lost in her eyes. Dark chocolate in the firelight, her eyes were filled with a mixture of emotions, fear, determination, and lust. Definitely lust, he could see it in her eyes and smell it on her scent. She wanted him. The realization washed over him and he nearly laughed out loud with joy. Nervously she licked her lips, her small tongue darting out and creating a trail of glistening moisture across her full lips. Flashes of what he wanted her to do with that tongue and what he wanted to do with his tongue flew through his mind. He felt his last shred of control snap as he brought his mouth down to hers.

His mouth slashed across hers and he could feel the wetness left by her tongue enticing him. He let his tongue run along the trail she had left behind and when she gasped, he plunged his tongue into her mouth. She tasted like heaven and he couldn't get enough. He dropped one of his hands to the small of her back and pulled her closer, pressing her soft body into his. He let his tongue run across the smooth wall of her teeth before darting in to rub against her tongue. She let out a low moan and reached up and threaded her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. He almost growled when he felt her nails scrape gently against his scalp. The need to touch her and taste her was so great his knees felt weak.

Without thought he steered her towards the couch that dominated the room. When the back of her knees hit the couch he pushed her down and settled himself against her. The feel of her soft curves again his hard body was exquisite. He rested his weight on one hand as he trailed his other over her body. Down her shoulder, across the soft swell of her breast, into the hollow of her stomach, then across the curves of her hip before making the same trip back up, loosening the buttons of her shirt as he went. He left a trail of hot open mouth kisses down her jaw, tasting her skin, to the base of her neck. He ran his tongue over the pulsing swell of her jugular and sucked the skin into his mouth savoring the taste and feel of her flushed skin. Slowly he moved up to trace the shell of her ear with his tongue. He felt her tremble beneath him and her chest heaved as she panted softly. He had to see her flushed with desire for him. He had waited for this moment for what seemed like forever and he wanted to savor it.

He pushed himself back and sat on his heels looking down at her. Her hair was fanned out around her head just as he had imagined it earlier and her eyes were dark with desire. He pulled his jumper over his head, wanting to feel his skin against hers. He reached out his hands and separated her shirt. She had on a simple white cotton bra, but he could see her nipples tight with desire straining again the constriction. He moved back over her, claiming her lips again as his hands reached up to mold her breast in his hands. She fit right into his hand perfectly. He let his thumb rub over her hard nipples and she let out a strangled moan as her hips lurched up. He was already hard and aching for her, but when she rubbed against him he felt all the remaining blood pool in his lower body and he hardened even more. He let out a pained moan as she rubbed against him again, but by now his body had taken over and he found himself rubbing against her in imitation of what he so badly wanted to be doing without the restriction of clothes. He felt her move her legs up to wrap around him, pulling him closer as she thrashed beneath him. He pulled her as close as he could as he kissed, bit and sucked the tender flesh of her neck and shoulders. He felt her legs begin to tremble and he knew she was close to her release.

"Please, Blaise," she breathed. The sound of his name on her lips scent a hot stab of desire through him. "Oh God, please… please…"

He felt the tightening in his body and new he was on the edge. He lowered his mouth to her shoulder and bit hard just as he felt the first wave of his orgasm hit him. She arched into him pulling him tight against her with her legs and screaming a high keening wail as her body shuddered violently against him. He felt the vibrant tendrils of ancient magic wrapping around them…connecting them. He was still shuddering when he let go of her shoulder and buried his face in her neck, gasping for breath.

--

Now as he laid there staring at her peaceful face as she slept he felt content...truly content. Tomorrow they would talk and he could tell her how much he loved her, how glad he was that she was here. '_Tomorrow…he would tell her tomorrow,_' he thought sleepily as he cuddled closer to her.


	4. The Morning After

**Disclaimer: **Harry potter and all characters are the sole property of J.K. Rowling.

**Summary:** Hermione learns Blaise Zabini is half-Veela and she is his mate. As head boy and girl it would seem this may be her most interesting year at Hogwarts yet. Includes H/G, R/LL Voldemort is dead.

**A/N: **Thanks to my lovely Beta Rhonda (Sinfully-Snape), the ladies at quietones group on yahoo, my wonderful reviewers and especially everyone who sent kind words to me and my family about my husbands step-father. THANK YOU!!!

* * *

Hermione snuggled closer to the delicious warmth under her. Something was off though…her pillow did not normally feel this hard. No she didn't want to think about it at the moment, it might disturb her lovely sleep. Her nose wrinkled slightly…what's that smell? Sandalwood? My pillow doesn't smell like sandalwood. For that matter my pillow doesn't move rhythmically like its breathing. 

Slowly the events of last night seeped into her sleep clouded brain. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter and for a moment childishly thought perhaps if she didn't open her eyes and wished hard enough, this would all go away and she would be here early for some Head Girl business and not because she was the mate of some half-Veela. As the moments passed she decided that it wasn't working and she was going to have to open her eyes at some point.

Slowly, hesitantly, she cracked her eyes open and all she saw was skin, healthy tanned skin. Just as quickly she squeezed them shut again and took a couple of nice deep breaths to calm her racing heart. For a moment she wondered if her heart was beating loud enough to wake him up. Once she was calm again, she formulated a plan of action. Carefully she raised herself off of her pillow and looked down at him.

'_Holy crap,' _she thought,_ 'it's true, it really happened.' _

Blaise Zabini was sprawled on his back under her. One arm hung over the side of the bed, the other was curled next to his face, his cheek resting slightly on it. His glossy black hair lay in thick curls around his handsome face. His thick lashes rested delicately against his high aristocratic cheekbones, softened by sleep. His lips were parted and seemed slightly swollen. She blushed as she wondered if they were swollen from last night.

Her blush intensified as her eyes raked over his naked chest. His torso was well defined, not muscular, but definitely not scrawny. She gulped as a horrifying thought popped into her mind. Slowly, hesitantly she raised the covers and peeked underneath. _Oh, Thank the Gods…_she thought to herself when she saw he had on a pair of green cotton pajama pants. The relief of finding him with at least some clothes on was replaced by horror as she glanced down at what she was wearing. For a moment she was sure she was about to die from mortification on the spot. Her clothes had been removed and she was now wearing a dark green t-shirt with 'Slytherins do it better' written on the front, right below a snake curved into the shape of the letter 'S'. She closed her eyes and tried once again to calm herself. After what seemed like an eternity of deep breathing exercises, she felt strong enough to open her eyes again. After all, they needed to be open in order for her to get off the bed and get to her own room.

She opened her eyes and for some reason the first thing that came into her line of sight was that blasted shirtless, tanned, delicious...'_WAIT A SECOND I did not just think that his chest was delicious!!!' s_he admonished herself harshly. '_Yes you did'_ a little voice inside her head seemed to say. '_Excuse me? I refuse to think his chest is delicious so just shut up!!' s_he scolded the little voice. After a few moments of bitter argument with herself she finally admitted that Blaise's chest might just be a little itty-bitty delicious looking, but made a solemn vow with herself to NEVER admit that, even under penalty of death, or bad grades. Feeling slightly better at having won the argument with herself, she let her gaze move back up to his face. He is handsome she concluded. Too bad he is a pureblood Slytherin and probably would never have looked at me twice if it wasn't for his damn Veela blood. _'His eyes are so beautiful' _she thought wistfully. '_Such a deep blue, I feel like I could just sink into them...wait… why are his eyes open…he is sleeping…'_

With a sharp scream, she reached out and roughly shoved him off the bed, grabbed the comforter pulling it up to her chin. With a loud thud, he landed on the floor cursing.

"OW! What the hell Hermione!" he yelled indignantly from the floor.

Hesitantly she leaned over the side of the bed and saw him sitting up rubbing the back of his head. Nervously she chewed on her bottom lip not sure how he would retaliate.

"Are," she squeaked, and clearing her throat she tried again. "Are you okay?" she asked timidly.

"No I am not bloody okay," he said. "You just shoved me on the bloody floor and I hit my bloody head on the bloody nightstand, and it bloody hurt," his voice raised in volume with each word until he was shouting.

"Don't you curse at me, Blaise Zabini," she yelled back. "After all I've done for you. I would think you could at least be NICE to me, but NO you have to scare me and yell at me and..." To Hermione's utmost disgust she suddenly burst into tears. Horrified at her lack of self control, she jumped off the bed and ran out of his room and into hers, slamming the door loudly before collapsing on the bed as she choked out tears she had been holding since she sat in Professor Dumbledore's office last night.

She heard her door open but she was too overcome with her tears to pay any notice as Blaise hesitantly stepped into her room. Slowly he crossed over to her bed and stared at her, unsure of what to do. Quietly he sat on the edge of her bed, reached out and began to gently stroke her hair.

"Shhhh, I'm sorry I yelled at you Hermione," he said softly, almost desperately. Quite uncomfortable that he made her cry, he tried to think of the right words to say. "I was just startled and the fall hurt. I didn't mean to scare you or upset you."

Gently he continued to stroke her hair and tell her he was sorry. After what seemed like hours Hermione quieted down and only a soft hiccup or sniffle could be heard now and again. Still Blaise gently stroked her hair, although now it was more for his benefit then hers. Every time his hand slid over her soft curls he felt a lovely jolt of happiness flow through his body. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting she was finally here, he was touching her and she was letting him. Of course she was just recovering from a bout of hysteria he had caused, but he decided not to dwell on that at the moment and instead let the bliss of her closeness enfold him.

Finally she turned towards him. Her face was blotchy, her eyes bloodshot and still watery, and her nose was running. In other words, she looked lovely. As she looked at him, she chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. '_That's the second time I have seen her do that today… must be a nervous habit,' _ he though absently.

"Why me?" she whispered. She asked the question hesitantly, almost nervously.

He though for a moment of what to say. Should he tell her that it was because she was so lovely, the way her hair seems to float like clouds of curls around her head, and to think some people call that frizzy? The way her eyes are the color of luscious hot chocolate, only a fool would call them brown. No better yet her lips, soft and plump like ripe strawberries, he unconsciously licked his own lips, how can anyone look at those lips and not want to kiss them? Her brains!! Of course!! He could tell her it was her astounding intellect, her relentless study habits, the dedication she put into her studies, and to think some people call it an obsession. So many different reasons flashed though his head and in the end, when he opened his mouth only three words came out.

"I don't know."

She looked at him incredulously. Blaise felt the blood rise up in his face and knew, much to his mortification, he was blushing. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and glanced around the room. It was almost a replica of his room, only done in a soft yellow color that made the room seem sunny and cheerful. He shifted nervously as she continued to stare at him, disbelief written on her face. Finally he cleared his throat and looked at her again.

"I'm kind of hungry," he said. "Would you like to get changed and go down to lunch with me? It looks like we missed breakfast."

Hermione quickly glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It said 'almost time for lunch' in bright neon letters. She was shocked. She never slept past eight. She quickly stood up almost throwing Blaise to the floor again. "Oh my goodness, I have to get ready! I can't believe I slept so long!! I never oversleep. Why today? Everyone is going to wonder why we weren't at breakfast," she babbled as she frantically dug through her trunk for clean clothes.

"Calm down Hermione," Blaise said, quite amused at how flustered she was. "The Professors know that after the marking you would need to sleep for longer then usual...I don't think they expected us down there anytime before lunch."

Hermione froze when he mentioned the marking so casually. She closed her eyes in embarrassment. She could tell her face was probably the color of a Weasley's hair. She now had to walk down to lunch and everyone would know what they did last night. How can she ever face anyone again? Images of last night flashed before her eyes and she was embarrassed to find herself not only flushed with embarrassment but with a slight hint of arousal.

"Just get out and let me get showered and dressed please," she said horrified at her body's reaction.

Blaise had watched in amusement as first he saw embarrassment, then horror, and finally the faintest hint of remembrance accompanied by the slight scent of arousal. His mouth curved into a feral smile as he let the triumph of knowing that the thought of what they had done turned her on, even if it did embarrass her, wash over him. When she quietly asked him to leave he slowly uncurled himself from the edge of her bed and stretched. His grin grew as his watched her eyes darken as they raked over his chest that he was scratching lightly. Gracefully he walked over her. She stared transfixed into his eyes as he slowly ran his finger down her cheek to her chin, he slowly tilted her head up. Leaning down, he gently brushed his lips over hers and whispered softly into her mouth.

"Whatever you want love."

Just like that, she was standing alone in her room, the door clicking softly as he shut it on the way out. Hermione stood still, almost paralyzed, her breath coming in shallow pants, her lips tingling from the almost non-existent kiss he had just given her. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts she wondered momentarily where her normally unbreakable self-control had gone. She raised her hand to her lips, tracing them lightly, still dazed. Realizing what she was doing she growled in frustration, grabbed her clothes and stormed into her bathroom slamming the door behind her.

'_Damn Veelas,'_she thought as she prepared to go down to the Great Hall to face the professors who all knew she had been 'marked' by a horny Veela last night…could the day get any worse?


	5. Lunch

**Disclaimer: **Harry potter and all characters are the sole property of J.K. Rowling.

**Summary:** Hermione learns Blaise Zabini is half-Veela and she is his mate. As head boy and girl it would seem this may be her most interesting year at Hogwarts yet. Includes H/G, R/LL Voldemort is dead.

**A/N: **Thanks to my lovely Beta Rhonda (Sinfully-Snape), my wonderful reviewers, and all the ladies (and perhaps gentleman) at quietones yahoo group (link in my author profile)

* * *

Hermione sighed as she wiped her hand across the mirror, removing the steam that obscured her reflection. _'Well,' _she thought, _'I guess you really can't drown yourself in a shower.' _Forty-five minutes under the soaking spray and all she accomplished was making herself look like a prune. With a wave of her wand, she cast a quick drying spell on her hair and twisted it up into a messy bun. One last look in the mirror and she decided her hair was as controlled as it was going to get and went back into her bedroom to dress. She threw on a pair of blue corduroys and a light blue t-shirt and headed out the door towards the common room. 

Blaise was sitting patiently on the couch, legs crossed casually. She couldn't help but blush at the thought of what had happened on that very couch last night. _'How can he sit there so calmly?' _she thought. He was wearing black slacks and a white t-shirt that was much too tight in her opinion. His glossy black curls were slightly mussed and as she watched he ran one eloquent hand through it. Her hands curled slightly at the memory of running her own fingers through those soft curls. Sensing her appraisal, Blaise looked up and smirked. Slowly he leaned back and slung his arm over the back of the couch causing his t-shirt to stretch even tighter across his chest and arms. "Like what you see?" he asked arrogantly.

"Of all the…" she sputtered indignantly. "You…I…like I would…"

He held up a hand to cut off her tirade. "I was joking, lighten up," he said standing and tossing his hair out of his eyes. "Are you finally ready? I am starving."

Still too embarrassed to trust her voice she just nodded and fell in step beside him as he headed for the portrait door. As they stepped out of their common room Lilianna greeted them enthusiastically. "Oh there you are," she said happily. "Looking much better I see, Blaise. I told you she would come now, didn't I? You two run along and enjoy the day." Hermione glanced at Blaise and smiled when she noticed he was blushing. He shot her a glance before mumbling a quick thanks to Lilianna and started off towards the great hall. They walked the halls quietly, each lost in deep thought.

As Blaise glanced at her again out of the corner of his eye, he wondered how long it would be before she assaulted him with hundreds of questions and subjected him to hours of analysis and research. He was surprised at how composed she seemed. He was sure the little Gryffindor would be all flustered over last night's events. The memory of last night brought another flush to his face, only this one was not embarrassment and he found himself looking at her lips. '_She tastes so good,'_ he thought, unconsciously licking his lips for any residual traces of her left behind. '_I wonder how long before she lets me kiss her again,'_ he pondered morosely. '_If this morning was any indication then I will be lucky if it's before graduation. Then again I never expected her to be so responsive.' _He almost growled at the memory of her wild abandon the night before. If her lusty cries and passionate grinding were any indication, he was going to have a wildcat in bed. That thought made him very pleased and he couldn't help the large grin that spread across his face.

Hermione was busy drawing up a schedule for the day in her head. First lunch, then back to the common room to read through the books Professor Dumbledore said he had placed there. After they exhausted those books they could move on to the library. Hermione almost squealed with excitement at the thought of an unlimited pass to the restricted section. _'Must not forget the meeting with Professor Dumbledore tonight,'_ she reminded herself. She turned to Blaise to inform him of the meeting, but stopped when she saw him staring at her with a strange, almost feral grin.

"What's that look for?" she asked as she stopped and turned to face him, crossing her arms defensively.

"What look?" he asked, his voice innocent, but his smile seemed to grow.

"Don't play innocent with me, you know what look I am talking about," Hermione retorted.

"Oh that look," he said. He let his eyes do a slow and thorough scan of her body, lingering for a moment at the more enticing areas before saying, "I was thinking of last night and wondering when we could have a repeat."

Hermione could only gape at him for a minute. "A repeat," she sputtered, "You…I can't believe…like I would…if I have anything to say about this there won't BE a next time. As soon as we have lunch, I plan on researching a way out of this and if you think I am going to let you paw me again you are sadly mistaken," she finished, nearly shouting.

Through her tirade, Blaise's face had lost its smile and was slowly darkening with anger. As soon as she was done speaking, she found herself pressed up again the cold stone wall of the hallway. Blaise braced his hands on either side of Hermione's head and taunted in a deathly calm voice that sent shivers through her body, "Is that so? I don't think you understand," he said, his right hand moving to her upper arm, "you're mine now, I marked you. No one and I mean NO ONE can change that. No one will ever love you like I do." He was still angry, but she noticed a subtle change as his eyes darkened and the heat seemed to radiate off him like it had last night. "No one will ever make you feel like I do."

His hand slid up her arm and under her sleeve to lightly brush the spot where he had bitten her last night. White hot pleasure shot through her at the gentle touch and she unconsciously leaned into him, pressing her body against his. Slowly he lowered his head and let his lips brush against hers gently, back and forth, the mere whisper of a touch. Another sweep of his hand over the mark and her arms wrapped around him with a moan and her fingers threaded into his hair as she tried to pull him closer. The feel of her body molded to his filled him with a fierce sense of possession and he brought his mouth down onto hers forcefully. One hand still gently stroked the mark as the other wrapped around the back of her head and held her closer to him. He pushed her forcibly back against the wall and slid one of his hard thighs between her legs, eliciting a whimper from Hermione. So enraptured with each other, it took a moment to notice the loud and incessant throat clearing that seemed to be going on somewhere in the vicinity. With a groan, Blaise manage to tear his mouth off of Hermione's and look around. Standing at the end of the hall was Professor McGonagall, arms crossed, foot tapping.

"Mr. Zabini, Ms Granger, I am shocked. You know better than to participate in such blatant public displays of affection. I know your circumstances are unusual, but you need to learn to control yourselves when not in private. Is this understood?" Professor McGonagall asked, glancing between the two.

"Yes, ma'am," Blaise said, stepping away from Hermione, but keeping his hands on her shoulders to steady her. With a glance he saw her eyes were wide and unfocused. He wrapped his hand around her upper arm and started off towards the Great Hall once more.

As they descended the main stairwell towards the entryway, Hermione finally seemed to come back to her senses. With a gasp, she pulled her arm from his hand and glared at him. "Don't you EVER do that again," she said in a low and deadly voice. "After lunch we are going to talk and set some ground rules, got that mister?"

Blaise raised his hands in mock defeat, "Sure thing…anything you say."

With one final glare, she swept down the stairs and into the Great Hall, Blaise following right behind her. There were only a few professors, along with Professor Dumbledore, seated at the single table eating lunch. With a brief smile towards the headmaster, Hermione seated herself towards the middle of the table and started to load a plate with food. Blaise followed suit and before long they were both intent on eating their meals hungrily. With a final bite of treacle tart, Hermione pushed away her plate and sat back with a sigh. She glanced up and saw Professor Dumbledore smiling at her so she threw him a quick smile and reached for a drink of her pumpkin juice.

"You seem well Ms. Granger, Mr. Zabini. I assume everything went well with the marking?" Professor Dumbledore asked innocently.

Hermione's eyes widened as they flew back to Professor Dumbledore and she gasped, forgetting she was currently drinking pumpkin juice and subsequently inhaling a large amount of said juice. Doubling over, she started coughing loudly, pumpkin juice running out of her nose and mouth. Quickly Blaise slapped her on the back and took the goblet of pumpkin juice out of her hands. After a minute, she was finally able to compose herself enough to look at Professor Dumbledore.

"Excuse me, sir?" she asked, hoarse from choking. With a nervous look, she glanced around the table only to find all eyes on her. "I…we…it…" Panicked, she looked at Blaise.

"It went fine, sir," Blaise said confidently. "Better than I had hoped actually."

Hermione stared at him absolutely horrified. Another smirk spread across his face as he stared at her for a moment then glanced back at Professor Dumbledore. Nervously she started twisting the fine linen napkin she was holding.

"Really, Mr. Zabini? Not much is written about the marking, perhaps you could share some more about it's mechanics?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

"Perhaps another time, sir," Blaise said politely, seeing the horrified look on Hermione's face. "Actually I think I need some more rest. Yesterday was quite trying and all. I think we will head back to our rooms for a rest," he said, quickly pulling the mortified girl out of the hall after him.


	6. Uncertainties

Disclaimer: Unfortunately I have not been given ownership of anything Harry Potter within the last year.

* * *

The walk back to the common room was surprisingly quiet. Both Hermione and Blaise were lost deep in thought. Blaise was considering different ways of winning over his mate. Hermione was considering different ways of getting out of this inevitable bond. So deep in thought they both were that it was quiet a surprise to fine themselves being prompted for the password to their quarters. With little conversation they both retired to different quarters of the room. Blaise went to the desk to write to his parents about the successful first marking, while Hermione went to the bookshelf and helped herself to a large handle of books to study.

Before long the only sounds that filled the room was the quiet sweep of the quill, the soft rustle of the book pages and the crackle of the cheery fire that kept the quiet hint of autumn chill from the room. It was quite comfortable actually: the shared solitude. An oxymoron to say the least but then again so was the idea that a pure blood male would be destined to mate with a muggle born female. People say fate is blind, perhaps its man that is blind and fate the light that penetrates the ignorant darkness man cloaks himself in. Such thoughts swirled through the room as each occupant considered their situation.

Blaise smiled to himself as his bold sweeping penmanship filled the thick paper with details about his mate, her reactions and the effect it was having on him. "**She is beautiful, mother. My heart is so full of happiness and love whenever I look at her. I can only hope she learns to feel the same. She is so against this, I fear she will reject the second mark." **Gently tapping the tip of the feathered quill against his lip, Blaise found his eyes drawn to the subject of his impassioned writing. Curled up in an oversized chair Hermione seemed almost dwarfed by the large book perched precariously on her lap. Viciously she was chewing at the tip of the quill she held, taking a moment to make a not here and there before returning it to her receive more punishment from her straight white teeth. Blaise felt a strong lurch in his stomach at the site of her lush mouth working the feather so roughly. Images swirled in his head and the scent of her seemed to wrap around him like a love. Without conscious thought he started to stand. Catching himself with a strong shake of his head he settles back in his chair and inks his quill. _I must learn to control myself, I promised and I intent to keep that promise._ He chastised himself before settling back into his writing.

Slightly distracted by the sound of rustling clothes, Hermione looked up to see Blaise settling more comfortably into the deckchair. She eyes him suspiciously a moment and when he did nothing more then continue to write she turned back to her book. _Nothing, nothing, nothing, why is their nothing! Everything can be countered… there is always a conterspell._ She thought, frantically leafing through another heavy tomb that only stressed the unbreakable power of the bond between a veela and its mate. With a frustrated sigh she put the book on the table and opened the next one in the pile. Again she found passage after passage about the beauty and eternal commitment between the two. Book after book of the same thing, for hours she sat reading and reading, looking for the smallest crack and it was always the same. For two days she read, first the books in the room before moving on to the restricted section. She went to meals when Blaise asked her too and went to sleep went he removed whatever book she was currently devouring and led her to her room with a quiet and sad goodnight. She wanted to feel bad for him, but she couldn't, all she could feel was the pressure building in her chest. Frustration and desperation waged a battle in which no one would win. On the third day she realized it. **_There is no way out. _**At first she was angry, but as usual Hermione realized how useless this was and the anger quickly faded to sadness and resignation.

With a heavy sigh she quietly capped her ink bottle and cleaned her quill before storing it safely away in her quill box. With unseeing eyes she stared into the bright and cheery fire that seemed the antithesis of her life. Images of the life she had daydreamed about as a child and even secretly as a young adult flashed through her mind. Their would be no clandestine meeting, no painful yet beautiful period of dating and wondering if he is the one, no choice when he kneels down and offers a sensible diamond engagement ring. Of course it would sensible she smiled slightly lost in the daydream, she would only have chosen the most sensible of man and he would offer a neat little ring, a neat little house, with neat little kids and maybe even a neat little dog. Now what did she have but a boy, no he now deserves the right to be called a man, she hardly knows. Turning she looked at him, this man who holds her destiny in his hands. He too stared at the fire, his eyes sad and his posture dejected. This surprised her and she realized that she had not for a moment thought of him, of his plans, his dreams, his desires. Was this what he wanted? As if sensing her eyes on him, he turned and she was caught in his violet gaze. They sat there for a moment. Afraid to move, to breath, to break this moment that had been so accidental yet so perfect. Uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze Hermione shifted her gaze slightly and allowed herself to examine his roughened appearance. His hair was disheveled and evidence that his long fingers had ruffled his hair was scattered about in errant waves. A slight shadow of stubble grazed his normally clean shaven chin and the beginning of circles hug the underside of his eyes.

"Are you unhappy? Unhappy it's me? A muggle-born? No birthright, no magical heritage, no dowry or upstanding family lineage to offer?" She turned her eyes to the fire again so he couldn't see the hurt his answer would undeniably bring her.

He was quiet for a few moments and Hermione closed her eyes, sure he was trying to find the right words to gently tell her how hard this was for him, how hard she would make his life. The sound of the settee he sat on creaking as he stood startled her and her eyes flew back to him. His face was without expression as he walked to her chair and kneeled down next to it, taking her hand in his own. She looked down at their hands, so different. His was large, tan and callused from quidditch and countless inches of essays over the last six years. Hers was white, so pale it was almost translucent, the only roughness on the soft surface was a small callous warn from the excessive use of quills. Blaise lifted his other hand and gently took her chin, lifting her head so her eyes rested on his and not their clasped hands.

"Please…don't speak so foolishly. I am nothing without you. Being with you, touching you, watching you frantically take notes, these things make me happy. You make me happy. You are a part of me and every fiber of my being longs to be with you, connected to you. Birthrights, heritage, dowry…these things mean nothing, absolutely nothing. Why would I need these things when I have you?" Gently he rubbed his thumb over her delicate skin, "I can make you happy Hermione, you must give me a chance to show you how much I love you."

His husky baritone washed over her and his eyes held her where she was with the power of feeling they carried. Sincerity seeped from every movement and for the first time since she stepped out of Dumbledore's office she felt something other then sadness, frustration, anger, or despair. She felt hope. Without thought she leaned forward and kissed him, softly, hesitantly and innocently. It lasted maybe three seconds before she pulled back and looked at him nervously. Again his face was blank, yet this time it was from shock and as this passed a small tugged at his lips and a moment later it spread across his whole face addictively. Try as she might Hermione couldn't hide the smile that answered.

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A/N: So dear friends.. its been over a year since my last update. Life sometimes kicks you in the ass and thats what happened to me. I hope to be able to get this thing back on track in the next few months. This was a transitional chapter because its been so long I honestly forgot where I was heading. So we have turned and are now headed in a new direction. I want some feedback on a few things. I have not decided really on who to pair Draco with...so lets have a vote... you can vote for any HP char male or female and I will pair him with who gets the most votes.


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